Visual Argument

In J. Anthony Blair’s (2004) formulation,
a single image can make a visual statement, while a visual argument
emerges when that image is placed in a wider context. For the purposes
of this webtext, I read Blair with the understanding that a visual
argument requires, at a minimum, two images in proximity to each
other. The argument of this webtext emerges in the "space between"
the images, not unlike the way the viewer of a comic "fills
in" the conceptual space between two panels, what Scott McCloud
(1993) termed "closure in the gutter" (p. 60-93).

An important move in any comparative history is to identify structural
similarities between the seemingly disparate. Each image in
this composition depicts a specific historical event. When
viewed in isolation, each depicts events separated in time and space,
as well as by their proximate causes and specific historical circumstances. But in juxtaposing these images, I wish to draw attention to their
underlying structural similarities. That is, the macro-argument
of this composition. The micro-argument emerges
in the mind of each viewer, who is invited to map these similar
structures onto each other. The viewer creates an argument
by apprehending the common patterns that emerge from their viewing
of the juxtaposed images.

The macro-argument advanced here is that the events captured in
each image cohere together and should be viewed as part of a larger
whole; I make the claim that these events are not disparate but
are homologous. (Note that I am not claiming a causal connection
between these events, but rather an associative connection.) Luddism
and iconoclasm—or rather, the impulse that fuels both actions—are
structurally homologous acts. Luddism is usually understood
as an attack on technology, but I think it better to understand
that specific act of vandalism as an attack not on the device but
as an attack on what that device represents. Similarly, I
wish to view iconoclasm not as an attack on specific religious imagery
but on what that imagery represents. That impulse makes Luddism
and iconoclasm—and all the other acts of principled vandalism
depicted here—more alike than we might think.

The viewer creates a micro-argument by viewing these juxtaposed
images within the boundaries established by the macro-argument. Look at the first three sets of images: a church burning in
Birmingham, Alabama; a defaced poster of Britney Spears; United Auto Workers smashing
a Japanese import. Looking at the first image alone is to
situate it in its own particular historical context: a specific
time, place, setting, set of causal forces, etc. Similarly,
the defaced poster is the result of historical conditions in another
time and place. By placing one image next to the other, the
viewer is invited to reflect on the commonalities in these two acts
of violence against objects. What does the Church symbolize? What does the image of Britney Spears symbolize? What are
the commonalities of these two acts of vandalism/Luddism/iconoclasm? Can we perceive a common pattern between these two historically
different acts? Importantly, how does your understanding of
the meaning of the first image change as a result of its juxtaposition
next to the Spears poster? Does it change again when a new
juxtaposition emerges? Now, add the third image: How does
this event influence your understanding of the meaning of the other
two images?

Then, of course, after a few seconds, new images
and new juxtapositions emerge, each adding layer upon layer of meaning. Throughout the swirl of juxtapositions, what common themes and patterns
emerge that connect these acts of violence against objects? Answering these questions creates the micro-argument of this composition,
the viewers’ particular mapping of these homologous acts. Where there is one macro-argument, there are as many potential micro-arguments
as there are viewers of this composition.

Juxtaposed images create a meaning that is established
extralinguistically, before language. Visual arguments work at the
level of perception, not logic; visual arguments have an ineffable
quality formed outside of language. Therefore, because it works
extralinguistically, unfolding in the eye of each viewer, the visual
argument for this webtext is as much the responsibility of the viewer
as it is the designer. I concede much of the interpretation
to the viewer while retaining my role as procedural author, as Janet Murray (1997) claimed in relation to electronic media:

Procedural authorship means writing the rules by which the
texts appear as well as writing the texts themselves. It means
writing the rules for the interactor’s involvement, that
is, the conditions under which things will happen in response
to the participant’s actions. It means establishing the
properties of the objects and potential objects in the virtual
world and the formulas for how they will relate to one another.
The procedural author creates not just a set of scenes but a world
of narrative possibilities. (p. 152-153)

Each iteration of the images establishes new narrative and rhetorical
possibilities. Within the set of visual choices I have established
as the procedural author, a viewer can exercise agency by making
associative connections between the images. Those associative connections
are as important a component of the visual argument as are my choices
as procedural author.